For Fun
It was my brother-in-law Ron who taught me how to fish for
trout in rivers and streams. He showed
me the where and the how. He taught me
how to fish for trout with nightcrawlers and spinners. All those lessons were intentional. He also taught me a couple of then-important
realities that I have found myself forgetting over time.
Whether we fished on small streams or larger rivers, Ron and
I developed a natural leapfrog style.
For example, when we fished the main south branch of the Oconto River
just north of Mountain, Wisconsin, we parked the car in a gravel turnoff. It went without saying that Ron was going to
take the path that led directly down to the river. There was a big pool there where a nice
riffle fed into deeper water before rising back up to spill out over a long
stretch of shallow riffle.
I always took the path upstream about forty yards to the
next fishable spot. It was a smaller but
also very productive pool where the water dug cold and dark and deep against
two huge mid-river boulders. Over the
years I had never caught anything huge there, but I had caught many respectable
trout. I usually fished the hole until I
saw Ron go by me on the path as he headed to the third pool. I then went to the fourth and we just worked
upriver that way during the morning. Occasionally,
we would compare catches. I tried to not
let it bother me too much if he reported a fuller creel than me; but I beamed a
broad smile when it was my creel that held more fish.
Over the years Ron caught some nice brown trout from that first
deep hole. I do remember one fish,
likely by far the largest he ever hooked in there that he did not catch. It was a morning where we found the river quite
high from mid-week thunderstorms. I had just
creeled my first fish of the day when I thought I heard someone. I turned and strained to hear over the
pounding rapids. There, there it was
again. I couldn’t exactly make out what
he was saying, but I recognized Ron’s voice.
I made my way to shore, climbed up onto the little footpath
that led down to where Ron was fishing, and I hurried downstream. Then I heard my name clearly. He needed help. I began imagining all sorts of emergencies. As I found where the trail led into Ron’s hole
and cleared the streamside brush I saw Ron mid-river. His fishing pole was arced over. About ten feet in front of Ron I could see
about half of a huge brown trout, Ron’s Mepps spinner tucked into the corner of
his jaw.
Ron explained that because of the fast water he just couldn’t
pull the fish any closer. Besides, he never
carried a net with him. For several
years we had debated that as I opted to carry a net. I think he saw the wisdom of my choice as he
now had to ask me to wade out and net his would-be trophy. I reached for my net, but only had taken two
steps toward that big fish, when the spinner popped out. The fish hadn’t made a last surge; he was definitely
tired out. It was the push of the high
water that caused the spinner to let go.
I watched as the big brown just kind of slipped back into river and
disappeared forever.
The reality that on every fishing expedition that fish can
and do elude the net, may have been the most significant factor as to why we
were so insistent on keeping every legal fish that we did manage to bring to
the net. Neither Ron nor I ever even
gave it a thought to release a legal fish.
Not only did I work hard to get my limit of trout each time, but even as
I grew older and ventured off on my own more often, everything went in the
creel. Success was always measured in
full limits. I recall many trips where I
fished an hour or more longer than planned because I still had one or two fish
to go. I began to document my success with
photographic evidence like the picture that accompanies this essay.
Somewhere along the line, things began to change. Oh, I still loved fishing trout most of any
species, but the drive to fill my creel began to wane. No doubt, part of the influence came from
Trout Unlimited. I joined the local
chapter and began volunteering several Saturdays each summer working on stream
improvement projects. I gained appreciation
for the delicate balance of nature, especially with coldwater fisheries. I also trout fished by myself for the most
part, so maybe there was lessened competition.
Whatever the reason, by the time I was married for a couple of years I
rarely even brought a creel with me.
I remember being challenged once by my mother-in-law when I
was telling my wife about some of the nice fish I had caught that day. “Where do you really go? And, what do you really do all the time that
you say that you’re fishing.” I think
she was trying to be funny, but I know that there were others in the family
that didn’t understand the concept of fishing for just the fun of it.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
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